


Lessons

by susancreature



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Alcohol, Awkward Sexual Situations, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, F/M, One Night Stands, Sexual Frustration, Smut, dubcon, mild blood kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:59:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7919713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susancreature/pseuds/susancreature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tannis has an itch she can't scratch. Mordecai is more than willing to help out. Smutty oneshot. WARNING: Drunk sex, mild violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> Just a smutty bit of drunken fun. If you aren't into mixing alcohol and sex, this might not be the right fic for you.

Dr. Patricia Tannis was definitely drunk.  She had never been much of a drinker, but the several bottles of celebratory wine the vault hunters had popped open had just looked so tempting.  And with the vault key safely stashed away, she had decided that she deserved a little celebration. Maybe the booze would even stop the voices, just for a little while.

The big one left first.  He didn't say much, just muttered something about needing stronger drinks.  The mutant girl and the soldier left a short while later, and they probably thought they were being subtle with their flirting.

Flirting.  When was the last time Patricia had flirted, or been flirted with? With all that had happened over the last few years, she hadn't even had time to think about romance.  At least not with a real, living, breathing person.  Sure, there was that brief fling with a particularly well built bandit, but she didn't count that one since he had spent the entire relationship dead.  She hadn't had to put in a whole lot of effort.  He had only asked her to wear lipstick for him once.

But that encounter had left Patricia unsatisfied.  After all, there's only so much a man can do without proper bloodflow.  And now she found herself alone and drunk with an equally drunk, living, breathing man.  Possibly even an attractive man, although his mask prevented her from knowing one way or another.  Her eyes skimmed over his seated form, bottom to top.  He looked relaxed, his vest and pack draped over the back of his chair.  There was dirt in his dreadlocks, and he smelled like blood.  This combination sent a jolt straight to her tragically underused lady parts.

"You can kick me out whenever," he said.

"Nonsense.  You stay as long as you can stand the sight of me."  She finished off her glass of wine.  "And don't ever expect me to say that again.  I'm feeling uncharacteristically mellow right now."

"It's the booze."

"It's the eridium."

"Sure, that too."  He finished his own glass, then picked up the last remaining bottle and took a swig from it.  "Man, I think Brick had the right idea.  This shit is pretty weak."

"Mario, do you suppose I could convince you to stay here tonight?"

"You've been taking care of yourself for a long time, Tannis.  I'm, uh, honestly not really sure how that happened, but I think you'll be fine on your own."

She stared at the wine bottle in his hand.  She could just bash him over the head with it and have her way with him, but she concluded that an unconscious vault hunter would probably result in similar problems as a dead bandit.  Her whole ambition at this point was to alleviate some internal pressure, something neither Leslie the Bandit nor that damn argumentative ECHO recorder (may his electronic soul rest in peace!) had been able to accomplish.

"I absolutely insist that you stay.  Especially now that the vault key is here.  Anyone could come try to take it, and two people can much more effectively defend it than just one.  Also, as disgusting as that bird of yours is, it eats skags, and as long as it stays outside, it actually makes me somewhat comfortable."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to bunk here." He stretched and scratched his chest. "Don't suppose you've got an extra cot stashed somewhere?"

"Well, no.  But my pallet could easily accommoate two small to average sized people."

"Jeez, Tannis.  Are you trying to seduce me?"  Mordecai drank some more wine and grinned.

"Well, yes. I suppose I am.  I'm not very good at it, I hate to admit.  I'm much more inclined toward academics and research than interpersonal dealings. Always have been, even before... well.  But I suppose you noticed that, too."

"Yeah, I think I managed to catch that much on my own, no supposing about it."  He finished off what wine was left and tossed the bottle over his shoulder and out the window.  "Why don't you let me take over?"

"I... you... what?"

"You suck at this, Tannis."  He stood and stepped around the small table between them.  "I'll be in charge here.  You just sit back and enjoy the ride."  He chuckled at his own pun.

"I'm not sure how this is going to go, Maximus.  I'm afraid I don't really know what a normal response would be."

"Just go with it.  You'll figure it out."  He moved behind her and disappeared from her line of sight.  She bit her lip as she fought the urge to jump to her feet.  She was not a big fan of having people behind her these days.

Suddenly, a pair of hands came to rest on her shoulders.  Before she knew what she was doing, Patricia shot out of her seat and spun around.  The next thing she knew, Mordecai let loose a barrage of bilingual profanity as he pulled a pen out of his shoulder.  She could have sworn he hadn't had a pen stuck in him a moment ago, and then it hit her.

"Fuck!  You crazy fucking bitch!"  He threw the pen on the dirty floor.  "What the fuck is your problem?"

"I'm so sorry, Mercutio!" she exclaimed.  "I don't like anyone being behind me and... and..."  Her gaze dropped to his wounded shoulder.  Blood oozed from the small puncture, and she reached out to press her gloved hand to it.  Mordecai flinched but allowed it.  After a long moment, she pulled her hand away and stared at the blood slicked leather.  She touched her tongue to it and shuddered, equal parts aroused and revolted.

"So that's what you're into," Mordecai observed.  He pulled off his own gloves and set them on the table.  Slowly, he wiped some blood from his arm with a finger, then lightly touched the finger to Patricia's lips.  Her lips parted, allowing entrance.  He groaned softly as she began to suck his finger, and her own eyes fluttered closed.  The metallic taste filled her mouth, and she felt a wave of heat wash over her.

"Ish hogh," she murmured.

"What?"  He pulled his finger from her mouth and slid his hand behind her neck, stepping right up close to her.

"It's hot," she whined.  "So hot."

"Here.  I'll help you with that."  He began to undo the fastenings of her clothing, and pretty soon she was standing in her boots and underclothes.  "Still hot?" he asked.

"In a manner of speaking."  His hands came to rest on her hips, then traced their way up to her bra.  He dipped his head down and kissed her shoulder, working his way up her neck to her ear.  "Ohh," she breathed, feeling her knees go weak.  She wobbled on her legs, and Mordecai responded by picking her up and setting her on the table.  He pushed her onto her back and then knelt down, peeling her panties from her body.

Patricia wished there was still some wine left.  She was starting to feel twitchy again.  "Mortimer, do you think we may have made a hasty decisi--aaaaaahh!"  Her words were cut short when she felt his mouth between her legs.  Every colour in her ramshackle little dwelling shifted, and her own voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere else.  She started to scoot up the table, terrified of the intensity she was feeling, but Mordecai hooked his arms around her legs, locking her in place.  A moment later, his tongue found just the right spot, and she let out a howl that could have startled the most badass of badasses.  She arched up off the table, arms flailing in all directions.  She was dancing, maybe for seconds or maybe for hours.  It was difficult for her to calculate the precise duration of her orgasm.

Then it was over, and she fell back to the tabletop.  She couldn't breathe.  She was underwater.  She had to swim.  Swim, swim.  Find the surface.  Keep going.  Keep going!

"Tannis?"  she heard.  She swam toward the voice, and a pair of hands pulled her out of the water.

But there was no water. She was still in her shack.  Mordecai held her off the ground, and her legs were wrapped around his waist.  She was naked except for her boots and bra.  His goatee was wet, and a single drop fell onto her chest.

"You still with me, Tannis?" he asked.  She slowly let her legs slide to the floor.  "You feelin' better yet?"  Even though she understood the words, she couldn't manage to formulate a response.  She felt dizzy.  Everything was spinning.  Wait, no, she was spinning.  And she was falling.

Patricia Tannis was drunk and vomiting on her own floor.  She wondered what she had done with the bucket the last time she had thrown up.  She supposed it didn't matter at this point.

"Here."  Mordecai knelt next to her, offering his canteen.  "Drink this."  She obliged and sipped some water, then swished her mouth out and spit.  "You okay?"

"Take off your mask," she whispered.

"Why?"

"I want to see your face.  Your whole face."

"If you insist."  He pulled the leather mask from his head.  Patricia inspected his face.  He wasn't terribly handsome, but he certainly wasn't ugly.  His cheeks were scarred, and his brown eyes were tired.  He looked fairly young, probably in his mid thirties or so, despite the subtle dusting of grey in his goatee.

"Well?  Do I pass the inspection?" he asked.  Her only response was to vomit again.

When she was done, she swished water again.  She drew up on her knees, and her hand darted out toward Mordecai's belt.  She helped herself to his knife and flicked it open.

"Whoa, whoa, let's not do anything we're going to regret."  He held one hand up, the other hovering over his holstered pistol.  Before he could respond, she slipped the knife under his shirt and pulled.  The already tattered fabric came ripped open easily, revealing a chest more toned than she would have expected on someone so skinny--though she supposed running all over the planet with a veritable arsenal strapped to one's back ought to have such an effect.  He shrugged out of his torn shirt, and she saw where she had stabbed him earlier.  The blood had begun to clot.

"I hope you don't mind," he said, gently plucking the knife from her grasp, "but I'd kind of like to keep my pants intact.  I gotta walk out of here with something in the morning."  He unbuckled his belt and pulled it from his pants, letting them slouch down to his knees.

Patricia blushed about ten shades of red when she saw that Mordecai was not wearing any underwear.  Her gaze settled on his erection, and her mouth hung open.

"You gonna just stare at it all slack jawed?" he asked, kicking off his boots and stepping out of his pants. "'Cause I could think of better things to do with that pretty mouth of yours."

For a brief moment, she considered performing precisely the act he was so obviously suggesting.  Instead, she slammed her mouth closed, the sound of teeth hitting teeth audible.

"I'm not sure that would be the best course of action, Malcolm."  She looked down at the floor and gestured toward his injured shoulder.

"Yeah, good point.  Thanks for the lucid moment, I guess this is as good a time as any to have one."

"I'm always lucid!" she protested as she shot to her feet.  He chuckled, laughing harder at her scowl.  He reached behind her and deftly unclasped her bra, watching the last piece of clothing fall from her body.  His hands came to rest on her hips once more.  After a moment's hesitation, she pressed her own hands to his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles with her fingertips.

Mordecai dipped his head and brushed a soft kiss against her lips.  In spite of the frightening intensity of her earlier orgasm, Patricia realized that she wanted more.  No, _needed_ more.  How long would she have to go without after this?  Another two years?  Or was it three?  'You can do this,' she thought to herself.  'Hold it together, Tannis, just for one night.'

Abruptly and without grace, Patricia smashed her own lips against the vault hunter's.  He kissed her back, matching her enthusiasm.  His slender fingers raked through her short hair, and she pressed her body flat against his.  She could feel his numerous scars against her skin, and she moaned into his mouth.

 It didn't take them long to stumble the short distance to her pallet, nearly falling down several times in their alcohol and lust fueled haze.  They sank down to what resembled a college student's futon but was nowhere near as comfortable.  Patricia barely noticed the hard wooden beams pressing into her back through the meager excuse for a mattress.

The hunter was all over her, all hands and lips and tongue--oh, god, that tongue.  It burned a trail down her neck, along her collarbone, and over the swell of her breasts.  He sucked one nipple between his teeth, pinching and rolling the other between his fingers.  Patricia heard someone crying.  She realized it was her.

"You all right?" he asked, pausing but not moving away.

"For the love of science, Morgan. Do. Not. Stop."  She squeezed her eyes shut. "I can't get pregnant, you know."

"Is that right?" he asked, his voice distracted.

"I was sterilized before coming to Pandora." She paused to gasp when he repositioned himself, nudging her legs apart with his knee. "Voluntarily. My work here is far too important for distractions such as children."

"Fair enough." He hovered over her, his face mere inches from hers. "You're sure you want this, Tannis?" He put a hand on the side of her face, a surprisingly intimate gesture. "There's still time to back out. No harm, no foul."

"I want this," she said. "I want... you."

"That's what I like to hear." With that, he pressed the head of his cock against her, sliding it along her seam. He leaned down and kissed her, and she moaned into him as she felt him slide into her. It happened easily, as she was still quite wet from his earlier attention. She held his face to hers, not giving a damn about her probably laughable kissing technique. All she cared about was the feel of his skin against hers.

It didn't last long. She suspected that it had been a while for him, too. But it was good while it lasted, and when he got close, he reached down and pressed his fingers to her clit, bringing her along with him as he fell over the edge. She felt tingly from her ears to the soles of her feet. They lay there for a while, panting against each other's skin. After a long moment, he rolled off and lay next to her, placing his hand on hers and twining their fingers together. 

"So," he said, wiping a hand across his brow. "Feel better?"

"Yes, actually." She closed her eyes and sighed, a smile creeping across her face. "It's quiet."

"Sometimes that's all you need." He rolled onto his side, facing her. "I know it probably seems out of character, but I've gotta admit, I'm kind of a cuddler. But if you don't want to, that's fine, too."

"Cuddling," she scoffed. "What a ridiculous word." Even so, she turned on her side, pressing her shoulder blades against his chest. She would have a panic attack tomorrow when she thought about his arms wrapped around her from behind. In the meantime, she looked forward to just one night without any bad dreams.


End file.
